BusynMember
Well-Known Member
Whoa insane. If anyone knows which country this is...I would love to know. That country deserves big kudos...
Feeling Sad---Son is Homeless
- Thread starter Feeling Sad
- Start date
nlj
Well-Known Member
I think this is about schizophrenia not being diagnosed, not that it isn't present.
I hadn't read this before, but I had read that schizophrenia is far more prevalent in people who have been raised in a city, than those who live in a rural area. That's an interesting fact and no doubt open to all sorts of discussion.
New Leaf
Well-Known Member
Feeling I am sorry for your grief and sadness, I hold you in my heart. It is oh so difficult when we just do not know how our loved ones are faring. It is hard to keep from sinking into the pit. Add the injustice of it all, a broken system that has no remedy, a double edged sword. You are entitled to your grief my friend.
When these waves hit me, I am comforted writing here, just letting it out, then receiving the kindness and caring of others responding and guiding me through the chasm of emotion. The memories of when my two were young come back, and I do not know why they choose to live as they do. For your son, it is the illness that chooses, I suppose it is similar with addiction, but not as severe, heart wrenching and mind boggling just the same. Let the feelings flow through you little Bird. I think it is more difficult when we are off and do not have the distraction of work that forces us to focus on the day, or weeks necessities. For you, I know it is harder still, because you cannot speak to anyone at work about these issues. My heart goes out to you, and I wish anything I write could make it better. My prayers go up for you and your son.
This is so true. It is hard when we are down and peering into this abyss to think of anything good.
As I watched my daughter walk down the road and disappear into the night, I said a prayer, like so many other times. When she was here at home, at least I knew where she was, the times she did come home to sleep. But, the level of madness that ensued throughout our home was intolerable and unacceptable. It is the same for you and your son. He was a prisoner in your home, in his room. He must have had to constantly fight the voices intending harm on you. There was no other alternative for you and I dear friend. So we are left to deal with what is.
My daughters addiction or possible mental illness chose the streets and still does. Your son is out there, somewhere making his way, somehow.
Our homes are not an option. Both my two, focus on me as the reason they are as they are. In my home, their venom towards me permeates the air. They become more reckless and daring, mocking house rules and doing as they please. It is impossible.
Out there, they must focus on making it work, finding solutions.
I am thinking, Feeling it may be the same for your son. His voices, target you as the enemy. It is impossible to have him in your home. Out there, he must find a way to make it work.
That will be my new mantra today, "Find a way to make it work."
It will be universal, for my two, your son and myself.
It is because if I do not find a way through this hard, hard journey, if I do not find a way to make it work, that is three lives wasted, even more, as my other children would suffer.
So, though I have suffered as my two suffer, my suffering does not help any of us. Not one single one, not my two, not the three waiting in the wings for their mother to come up for air.
Feel what you need to feel, to get it out, then start again my friend. You are doing better. I see it in your posts. Find a way to make it work. Go out into your garden and get it out into the soil. Go for a long walk. Write down your pain in a journal. Continue to see your therapist. Go to your NAMI meeting.
You are a wonderful person with value and worth.
We are all rooting for you, and understand the pain. It is okay Feeling, write it out here, get it out.
I am with you, no matter what.
I have faith in you that you will find your way through this and also that God is watching over our children. For whatever reason they are out there He is watching over them. Perhaps, someone will show them kindness. I will ask for that today. Someone please show them kindness that will touch their hearts and their minds and move them to a better path.
It is sad and unfortunate for now, Feeling, that that someone cannot be us. We have tried that way, and it does not work. So, you and I dear sister, will have to rely on our faith and send out positive thoughts and light towards our ill and wayward children.
Like lighthouses that stand upon the rocky surf pounded crags.
We sent them out of the harbor with that light.
Stand, stand as beacons of hope that they will find a way to make it work.
Likewise, we shall stand together through cyber space to find a way to make it work.
For us, Feeling. You and I.
Warrior sisters.
We will find a way.
My thoughts and heart go out to you to find some peace of mind.
Much love and big, big
(((HUGS)))
leafy
savior no more
Active Member
You are so right about this. Even sometimes against their will when they want to continue living at home but they get placed in nursing homes. I understand why, but it's hard to witness. We don't protect the mentally ill at all.
I feel your pain of no social support. I live it daily and have for years. My prayers of peace for you and a respite from your fears are being sent your way.
Feeling Sad
Well-Known Member
I like your name, Savior No More. It says it all...
Nature
Active Member
Your post are gut wrenching and really tugged at my heart strings. I truly understood the times you spoke of the fear of death from your own child and of the pain of having to call the police to have him removed. While my son has not be diagnosed with Schizophrenia I see many similarities with my son who at that time experienced psychosis from either his increased drug use or mental illness. I was also the target of my son's increasing violence and still recovering from PTS from the ordeal. It is only the last few weeks I stopped wearing my panic button from the moment I pull into my driveway and is hooked up to my alarm system, although I still turn on my alarm system nightly. I am also so relieved that I can sleep after being so sleep deprived for so long. I had slept with one of my large dogs in the family room for months so great was my fear of him during the night. He often brought home all sorts of strangers in my home in the wee hours and cranked the music up at 4 am. Yes, part of me is terribly sad I called the police and had him physically removed from my home but I could no longer live the life of a prisoner. I felt I was in a living hell and I recognize you also experienced the same thing. I too also worried about the effects it was having on my other child although he no longer lived at home.
I understood the frustration of not being able to find help and I also could relate to your description of your battered and destroyed home. Lastly, I can relate too when you said you experienced guilt in which you can help other children but not your own child. I work with at risk youth and am successful at reaching many kids but sadly not my own.
I hope to share in that sisterhood that you have with others on this forum and I want you to know you are not alone.
PS. I understand too about not having the energy to fix the broken things. You probably have discovered each time one little thing is fixed, it is if a small part of you is being healed. It took me months to even enter my son's previous room to tackle the destruction. I had to close the door as I would grieve each time I walked by. Finally, I did it and it helped me towards the road to recovery. I am thinking of you.
I understood the frustration of not being able to find help and I also could relate to your description of your battered and destroyed home. Lastly, I can relate too when you said you experienced guilt in which you can help other children but not your own child. I work with at risk youth and am successful at reaching many kids but sadly not my own.
I hope to share in that sisterhood that you have with others on this forum and I want you to know you are not alone.
PS. I understand too about not having the energy to fix the broken things. You probably have discovered each time one little thing is fixed, it is if a small part of you is being healed. It took me months to even enter my son's previous room to tackle the destruction. I had to close the door as I would grieve each time I walked by. Finally, I did it and it helped me towards the road to recovery. I am thinking of you.
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Feeling Sad
Well-Known Member
Welcome, Nature! What a beautiful, peaceful name you have chosen. I understand completely why you chose it.
Thank you so much for the post. Yes, it helped me feel like I have a kindred spirit.
I am so sorry that you are going through this horrific ordeal. My mother's heart aches for yours. None of us should have to endure this horrific pain.
Yes, you are a sister warrior. You have earned your tunic. You are strong and will get through these heart-wrenching times.
Yes, cleaning, bit by bit, does help to heal you.
You are not alone.
I am off to work. Please keep posting. It is very freeing to write down one's emotions and connect with others on such an emotional level. I am so sorry that you had to find us...but I am so glad that you did.
Hang in there. We will get through this. Treat yourself with kindness and know that you did your best!
Take care,
Feeling
Thank you so much for the post. Yes, it helped me feel like I have a kindred spirit.
I am so sorry that you are going through this horrific ordeal. My mother's heart aches for yours. None of us should have to endure this horrific pain.
Yes, you are a sister warrior. You have earned your tunic. You are strong and will get through these heart-wrenching times.
Yes, cleaning, bit by bit, does help to heal you.
You are not alone.
I am off to work. Please keep posting. It is very freeing to write down one's emotions and connect with others on such an emotional level. I am so sorry that you had to find us...but I am so glad that you did.
Hang in there. We will get through this. Treat yourself with kindness and know that you did your best!
Take care,
Feeling
Feeling Sad
Well-Known Member
Nature, my youngest son put in automatic lights for me so that I would feel less afraid. They are set to go on at 4:45 each day automatically. I have 3 lights in different rooms. Now, I do not come home alone to a dark house. I feel safer.
Also, if it is late at night and I want to quickly go across the house to the family room, I just push the remote control, and the lights go on. The remote control can be placed in its holder anywhere. Mine is in the hallway on the wall by my bedroom door. I can carry the remote, if I wish. I can also dim the lights.
I feel safer now, when my youngest son is not home. He ordered it on line.
I understand completely what you are going through. You are afraid of your own son. You love him and fear him at the same time. It goes completely counter to our motherly emotions.
How can you love and fear your son at the same time? But, you do. I do, as well. It is the worst possible type of torment. You want to believe that , down deep, he would never really hurt you. But, your gut and his actions tell you otherwise.
What helps me the most, and it always makes me tear up, is that I think of what my son would want for us if we was back the way that he was before his illness took over.
He would want us to be safe. He would want us to protect ourselves.
It is the illness...not our sons.
We need to keep them safe from possible prison time or living with guilt if they did hurt or kill us. They are not able to stop themselves, right now. We need to help them to not do something that they will regret later.
Also, if we were gone, we cannot help them in the future.
I was posting on another thread. I wrote about how I used to downplay threats.
My son asked me, after we had to have our sick dog put down, how much medicine, did I think, that it would take to kill me?
He told me that it would be easy to smother me in my sleep.
He told me about a dream he had that he pushed me off of a pier and killed me.
These were all accompanied with a smile. A smile...
Writing these things down makes it real. I used to numb out.
Yes, I lived in danger...every day.
I love my son, but I also greatly fear my son. It is truly 'crazy-making'.
It is a nightmare. I want to 'wake-up'.
Also, if it is late at night and I want to quickly go across the house to the family room, I just push the remote control, and the lights go on. The remote control can be placed in its holder anywhere. Mine is in the hallway on the wall by my bedroom door. I can carry the remote, if I wish. I can also dim the lights.
I feel safer now, when my youngest son is not home. He ordered it on line.
I understand completely what you are going through. You are afraid of your own son. You love him and fear him at the same time. It goes completely counter to our motherly emotions.
How can you love and fear your son at the same time? But, you do. I do, as well. It is the worst possible type of torment. You want to believe that , down deep, he would never really hurt you. But, your gut and his actions tell you otherwise.
What helps me the most, and it always makes me tear up, is that I think of what my son would want for us if we was back the way that he was before his illness took over.
He would want us to be safe. He would want us to protect ourselves.
It is the illness...not our sons.
We need to keep them safe from possible prison time or living with guilt if they did hurt or kill us. They are not able to stop themselves, right now. We need to help them to not do something that they will regret later.
Also, if we were gone, we cannot help them in the future.
I was posting on another thread. I wrote about how I used to downplay threats.
My son asked me, after we had to have our sick dog put down, how much medicine, did I think, that it would take to kill me?
He told me that it would be easy to smother me in my sleep.
He told me about a dream he had that he pushed me off of a pier and killed me.
These were all accompanied with a smile. A smile...
Writing these things down makes it real. I used to numb out.
Yes, I lived in danger...every day.
I love my son, but I also greatly fear my son. It is truly 'crazy-making'.
It is a nightmare. I want to 'wake-up'.
Nature
Active Member
Thank you for your kind words - I love the name of Sister Warrior! We are sadly members of the same club as are all the others on this forum and I'm extremely grateful I found others like me. I chose the name Nature as being surrounded by nature were the only times I found solace and peace. I have yet to walk in the woods as I used to enjoy in the past but have returned to my love of gardening which allowed me to surround myself with pretty flowers and shrubs that attract birds, butterflies and bees.
I had joined and wrote of my ordeal either last April or May and although I occasionally continued to read the forum, I was too overwhelmed, tired and shell shocked to post. I am slowly re-emerging and while this past week has been stressful I realize I have changed and am glad to join in the sisterhood of this forum.
I'm glad you have taken safety precautions and are slowly fixing things around the home. That is a sign of your well being and healing when you start getting the energy to try to re-enter a life that is somewhat normal compared to your previous life.
I agree with you when you said:
What helps me the most, and it always makes me tear up, is that I think of what my son would want for us if we was back the way that he was before his illness took over.
I remember having a conversation with my son once before he fell back under his dark cloud that I was concerned over his drug use , that he was a different person and becoming increasingly aggressive. I remember the tears that welled up in his eyes, seemed genuinely hurt I would even say such a thing and he said "Mom, you know I would never hurt you".
I believe my son would never hurt me but the shell of who he had become due to either his increased mental illness or drug use certainly would have killed me the last time he was in my home. He stood in my kitchen with two butcher knives not even resembling my son as his face was so distorted with rage and eyes that looked right through me. I fled, the swat team had to break down the door with a battering ram, he spent 70 days in jail and then was released to a recovery home. He was doing well until this past week. I experienced PTS this week knowing he was out there but thankfully he went into Rehab on his own 2 days ago. I have learned so much from this site as I stayed strong and managed to convince my sister too to do the same and not rescue him but rather just give him the numbers to places which could help him. After 4 days on the street he showed up to the Rehab and asked to be allowed in.
It was pouring rain all week the kind where you are soaked to the bone but I went out there and dug out huge shrubs to place in other areas of the yard, ordered 4 yds of dirt and sod and did a lot of physical work in order not to dwell on him. I was exhausted but I was able to sleep at night which was what I wanted to be able to do. It also served a double purpose too as I know in a few weeks the flowers and shrubs will bloom and I can find a bit of happiness watching the birds and butterflies in the garden. There was so much ugliness in my life the past year I need to see beauty once again. My home is still not 100% fixed but I've learned not to sweat the small stuff as much.
I thought of you today when I was out in my garden and before I saw your response and wished you lived closer to me so that we could both laugh and dig in the mud together and help each other fix our broken homes. Well we can do it in the virtual world and I have your back, my friend.
I had joined and wrote of my ordeal either last April or May and although I occasionally continued to read the forum, I was too overwhelmed, tired and shell shocked to post. I am slowly re-emerging and while this past week has been stressful I realize I have changed and am glad to join in the sisterhood of this forum.
I'm glad you have taken safety precautions and are slowly fixing things around the home. That is a sign of your well being and healing when you start getting the energy to try to re-enter a life that is somewhat normal compared to your previous life.
I agree with you when you said:
What helps me the most, and it always makes me tear up, is that I think of what my son would want for us if we was back the way that he was before his illness took over.
I remember having a conversation with my son once before he fell back under his dark cloud that I was concerned over his drug use , that he was a different person and becoming increasingly aggressive. I remember the tears that welled up in his eyes, seemed genuinely hurt I would even say such a thing and he said "Mom, you know I would never hurt you".
I believe my son would never hurt me but the shell of who he had become due to either his increased mental illness or drug use certainly would have killed me the last time he was in my home. He stood in my kitchen with two butcher knives not even resembling my son as his face was so distorted with rage and eyes that looked right through me. I fled, the swat team had to break down the door with a battering ram, he spent 70 days in jail and then was released to a recovery home. He was doing well until this past week. I experienced PTS this week knowing he was out there but thankfully he went into Rehab on his own 2 days ago. I have learned so much from this site as I stayed strong and managed to convince my sister too to do the same and not rescue him but rather just give him the numbers to places which could help him. After 4 days on the street he showed up to the Rehab and asked to be allowed in.
It was pouring rain all week the kind where you are soaked to the bone but I went out there and dug out huge shrubs to place in other areas of the yard, ordered 4 yds of dirt and sod and did a lot of physical work in order not to dwell on him. I was exhausted but I was able to sleep at night which was what I wanted to be able to do. It also served a double purpose too as I know in a few weeks the flowers and shrubs will bloom and I can find a bit of happiness watching the birds and butterflies in the garden. There was so much ugliness in my life the past year I need to see beauty once again. My home is still not 100% fixed but I've learned not to sweat the small stuff as much.
I thought of you today when I was out in my garden and before I saw your response and wished you lived closer to me so that we could both laugh and dig in the mud together and help each other fix our broken homes. Well we can do it in the virtual world and I have your back, my friend.
Feeling Sad
Well-Known Member
It sounds like your garden will be beautiful. Yes, we have had ugliness in our lives and deserve some beauty. It must have been horrible for you. I am sorry that you had to go through it.
Your son had Butcher knives and mine had a jagged bottle. My son had an otherworldly distant look on his face, as well. His expression that day is what scares me the most. He could have hurt me without realizing it. It did not look like him. He had the eyes of a shark...cold and severe.
That was a good idea wearing an alert panic button. I wish that I had thought of that...
I will be working in my garden for a week during my Spring Break. I will be placing river rock and plants...and weeding. I have some nice stepping stones that I am going to place and a pink chrysanthemum plant my youngest son's friend bought for me.
I hopefully will be able to sleep better, as well. I often go to work on just 4 or 5 hours of sleep. But, I am sleeping better that I was in June. Do you have flashbacks or nightmares? I am not as jumpy as I was earlier.
The only plus of being scared, if you want to call it that, is that I do not feel as sad. The fear takes over. But, when I am less fearful, all of my sad thoughts come rushing in...
That is good that you tackled your son's room. I am not there yet. Even when my youngest son leaves the door slightly ajar, it scares me. I think that he is coming to get me. Then, the truth rushes over me and I feel sad and miss him.
It is very surrealistic to both miss him and fear him. No mother should have to endure this unfathomable torture.
Yes, we need beauty in our lives. We all do on this site.
Your son had Butcher knives and mine had a jagged bottle. My son had an otherworldly distant look on his face, as well. His expression that day is what scares me the most. He could have hurt me without realizing it. It did not look like him. He had the eyes of a shark...cold and severe.
That was a good idea wearing an alert panic button. I wish that I had thought of that...
I will be working in my garden for a week during my Spring Break. I will be placing river rock and plants...and weeding. I have some nice stepping stones that I am going to place and a pink chrysanthemum plant my youngest son's friend bought for me.
I hopefully will be able to sleep better, as well. I often go to work on just 4 or 5 hours of sleep. But, I am sleeping better that I was in June. Do you have flashbacks or nightmares? I am not as jumpy as I was earlier.
The only plus of being scared, if you want to call it that, is that I do not feel as sad. The fear takes over. But, when I am less fearful, all of my sad thoughts come rushing in...
That is good that you tackled your son's room. I am not there yet. Even when my youngest son leaves the door slightly ajar, it scares me. I think that he is coming to get me. Then, the truth rushes over me and I feel sad and miss him.
It is very surrealistic to both miss him and fear him. No mother should have to endure this unfathomable torture.
Yes, we need beauty in our lives. We all do on this site.
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Nature
Active Member
We are very alike you and I my friend. I'm currently on my Spring Break so not only have time to post but also have the energy to work in the garden. I too continue to have nightmares but not as often as I had in the past.For a long time I dreamed a lot of when he was little and innocent and in my dreams he was in danger and I had to rescue him from it. The danger usually turned out to be himself as he became when he got older.So my dreams frequently were of "both" of them young and at his current age. I know there is probably some hidden meaning in those dreams. I believed I grieved for the son I used to have and whom he had become and I was powerless to rescue him.
The fear too I experienced gripped my heart has eased somewhat although I did experience it once again when he was "out there" for four days as I knew he had relapsed and knowing when he is out of touch with reality I become the target of his anger. I wore my panic button for those four days. The alarm company provided it for free when we had our alarm system upgraded when they found out I was a victim of domestic violence. I also had security cameras installed so that I could check the yard and perimeter to view if there had been any activity before I entered the property. Although I live in a large city the area I live in is rather remote and isolated with large hedges surrounding the yard.
When the initial incident happened last year I feared he would return if he was released from prison (at that time I only had contacts on the lower windows and doors) so I upgraded to include the second story.When he lived with me even if I locked the doors or he lost his keys he would break into the home by that route. The alarm went off one day when I was at work and I saw him trying to break into the home via the security cameras which I can view from my phone, he probably was shocked to find the alarm system going off via the second story and raced away. He was eventually picked up again and charged with breach but since that time he has not tried to come to the home again as he now knows about the extra security. It's hurtful that I am so scared of my own son. I wouldn't even say "scared" as I'm scared of some things but I felt terror when my son's behavior became increasingly erratic.
I remember the first incident ( he had three episodes of Psychosis eventually)before I finally called the police after the third incident to remove him. I arrived home from work one day and heard sounds of distress coming from his room and called up to him asking if everything was okay. He raced out of his room and say YOU! You $%%^$^$ B and raced down the stairs after me. The look in his eyes terrified me and I ran. I managed to get outside and dove in the bushes and did a face plant in the dirt amongst some shrubs trying to make myself as small as possible. He was a few feet away from me and paced back and forth screaming where are you? I'm gonna kill you. I didn't know what made him so angry but understand there is no reasoning with psychosis. This was last Feb and I was out there without shoes, coat, nor my cell phone. He paced for 2 hours in the yard while I was hiding and then eventually left. I emerged horrified and shaken at what had just happened and although I didn't call the police after the incident (yes I know I'm now smarter in retrospect) I had a greater fear that he would come at the police in an aggressive manner and they would have no choice but to shoot him. That was something I felt I couldn't live with at the time nor be a witness to it. I tried desperately to seek help from Mental Health Centres but all suggested I bring him in. There was no way he would have gone as he was not aware of his behavior. It was a catch 22 situation. It took the third incident for me to finally make the call to the police. I know and understand the heart break it took for you to make the same call regarding your son. My heart broke into a million pieces that day as I know yours did. I still grieve the son I used to have but know I can never live like that again. Victim Assistance has a program in some areas in which they'll cover security cost for victims of domestic violence which allowed me to get the extra security system.
His room took weeks to clean, at first I could only pile the broken things in the middle of the room. I pulled out the bed and placed it outside as it was totally destroyed. The closet doors were also destroyed in a gazillion pieces so I placed those outside too. It was all I could do for a while but it changed the look of the room so that I was able to enter once again without such strong memories of him laying on his bed. The trash and piles of dirty dishes went in the garbage. The day I packed it all in my vehicle to take to the dump was a catharsis for me. Weeks later I could enter the room as I too kept the door shut but it was causing me stress when I walked past it. I finally purchased storage bins and placed his clothes in them and by this time he was in a Recovery Home so I was able to give them to one of his friends to bring to him. Packing his clothes caused me the most grief as I felt part of him was dead. However, as difficult as it was once the room was empty I purchased a bed that looked very different from his previous bed (Craigs List) and rearranged the room so it no longer resembles his previous room. It helped a lot towards my healing. All of my healing has taken months and I also started going to a therapist which helped a great deal. It's been a long process but I'm much stronger now than I was a year ago.
I hope I didn't hijack your post but I thought sharing my story with you makes us kindred spirits as we have experienced something no mother should ever have to have lived through. Hugs to you my warrior sister.
The fear too I experienced gripped my heart has eased somewhat although I did experience it once again when he was "out there" for four days as I knew he had relapsed and knowing when he is out of touch with reality I become the target of his anger. I wore my panic button for those four days. The alarm company provided it for free when we had our alarm system upgraded when they found out I was a victim of domestic violence. I also had security cameras installed so that I could check the yard and perimeter to view if there had been any activity before I entered the property. Although I live in a large city the area I live in is rather remote and isolated with large hedges surrounding the yard.
When the initial incident happened last year I feared he would return if he was released from prison (at that time I only had contacts on the lower windows and doors) so I upgraded to include the second story.When he lived with me even if I locked the doors or he lost his keys he would break into the home by that route. The alarm went off one day when I was at work and I saw him trying to break into the home via the security cameras which I can view from my phone, he probably was shocked to find the alarm system going off via the second story and raced away. He was eventually picked up again and charged with breach but since that time he has not tried to come to the home again as he now knows about the extra security. It's hurtful that I am so scared of my own son. I wouldn't even say "scared" as I'm scared of some things but I felt terror when my son's behavior became increasingly erratic.
I remember the first incident ( he had three episodes of Psychosis eventually)before I finally called the police after the third incident to remove him. I arrived home from work one day and heard sounds of distress coming from his room and called up to him asking if everything was okay. He raced out of his room and say YOU! You $%%^$^$ B and raced down the stairs after me. The look in his eyes terrified me and I ran. I managed to get outside and dove in the bushes and did a face plant in the dirt amongst some shrubs trying to make myself as small as possible. He was a few feet away from me and paced back and forth screaming where are you? I'm gonna kill you. I didn't know what made him so angry but understand there is no reasoning with psychosis. This was last Feb and I was out there without shoes, coat, nor my cell phone. He paced for 2 hours in the yard while I was hiding and then eventually left. I emerged horrified and shaken at what had just happened and although I didn't call the police after the incident (yes I know I'm now smarter in retrospect) I had a greater fear that he would come at the police in an aggressive manner and they would have no choice but to shoot him. That was something I felt I couldn't live with at the time nor be a witness to it. I tried desperately to seek help from Mental Health Centres but all suggested I bring him in. There was no way he would have gone as he was not aware of his behavior. It was a catch 22 situation. It took the third incident for me to finally make the call to the police. I know and understand the heart break it took for you to make the same call regarding your son. My heart broke into a million pieces that day as I know yours did. I still grieve the son I used to have but know I can never live like that again. Victim Assistance has a program in some areas in which they'll cover security cost for victims of domestic violence which allowed me to get the extra security system.
His room took weeks to clean, at first I could only pile the broken things in the middle of the room. I pulled out the bed and placed it outside as it was totally destroyed. The closet doors were also destroyed in a gazillion pieces so I placed those outside too. It was all I could do for a while but it changed the look of the room so that I was able to enter once again without such strong memories of him laying on his bed. The trash and piles of dirty dishes went in the garbage. The day I packed it all in my vehicle to take to the dump was a catharsis for me. Weeks later I could enter the room as I too kept the door shut but it was causing me stress when I walked past it. I finally purchased storage bins and placed his clothes in them and by this time he was in a Recovery Home so I was able to give them to one of his friends to bring to him. Packing his clothes caused me the most grief as I felt part of him was dead. However, as difficult as it was once the room was empty I purchased a bed that looked very different from his previous bed (Craigs List) and rearranged the room so it no longer resembles his previous room. It helped a lot towards my healing. All of my healing has taken months and I also started going to a therapist which helped a great deal. It's been a long process but I'm much stronger now than I was a year ago.
I hope I didn't hijack your post but I thought sharing my story with you makes us kindred spirits as we have experienced something no mother should ever have to have lived through. Hugs to you my warrior sister.
pigless in VA
Well-Known Member
Nature and Feeling Sad, I have been through what you've been through only it was my husband and not my child. I agree that it is a terrible torment: to love someone and know the best parts of them are being controlled by mental illness. Once I witnessed my husband's psychosis, I finally understood how people could believe in demonic possession. I felt like the man that I loved had died and this horrible, wicked being had taken control. His eyes were so glittery, so full of hatred. I kept trying (in vain) to explain to the mental heath professionals that this was NOT my husband. That he looked the same, but that his entire personality had changed. What was once a man whom I loved deeply and completely, who was gentle and kind and thoughtful, had become a threat. An attacker. A man who goose-stepped in halls of the courthouse in order to intimidate me. A man who thought I was evil.
Most maddening of all was watching him pull himself together in the presence of doctors or police officers. He knew what to say and what not to say. He knew how to hide his illness from them in order to stay free; free to torment me and the children. Free to turn our lives upside down, inside out, and backwards.
Many warm hugs for your hurting hearts.
Feeling Sad
Well-Known Member
Yes, I felt very helpless, as well. My son did not believe that he was ill. He became increasingly more violent.
I would try not to reward the violence, but I am divorced and my son is 6'1". When he is psychotic, he is very strong.
He would threaten to kill me if I called the police. Full tables were thrown across the room, large pots of boiling water were thrown and the wall would hiss with the scalding water, a Pyrex casserole dish was stabbed with a Butcher knife straight through into the counter, cabinets were stabbed, 3 computers, a t.v., light fixtures, and my land line phone were destroyed, ceilings had sirachi hot sauce squirted on them, rugs had urine, doors and walls were kicked open, things were thrown with such force that they ripped through the vinyl flooring into the cement, etc.
I called the mental crisis unit. They would not do anything because he was violent. I had to call the police, they told me, and they would come then.
I finally ran outside and called the police 3 years ago because he was threatening to cut up my face. When they arrived, they asked me why I had called. I told them that my son had threatened to cut my face up.
They then asked me, but why did you call tonight? I told them, again, that he was threatening to cut up my face. It was as though that was not a good enough reason.
A third time, I was asked and I told them again.
My mistake was in telling them that my son is schizophrenic, but not diagnosed yet.
Big mistake. Their demeanor worsen. They asked me how I even knew that he was schizophrenic. I told them that I had 2 schizophrenic sisters and was a special education teacher.
They told me that they couId not do anything and that I needed to evict him. I told them that an eviction would not help anything and that he would be one of the millions of mentally ill homeless people. They then asked me if I had somewhere to stay that night.
I remember feeling so very alone that night. The police were of no help. I was out front, down one house. My ill son never saw the police. At least he would not kill me for calling the police, I thought.
He continued to be violent and threaten my life. I felt completely on my own.
Three weeks before the last incident, he had thrown a full heavy table across the room. I had threatened to call the police if he continued to destroy things.
I went into the kitchen and he followed me. It seemed like a split second, but yet, slow motion at the same time. He held a bottle by the neck and cracked it hard against the counter. His eyes...his cold eyes were of someone without a conscience. He quickly held the bottle up to my throat and yelled, "Call the police and see what happens to you!"
He must have seen my face of sheer horror and surprise. He quickly smiled and gave a nervous laugh. He told me that he was just joking and said that he would clean it up. I knew that he wanted to destroy any evidence because he had NEVER offered to clean up anything in 9 years of destruction.
I did not call the police because they had not helped me earlier. He would surely kill me, I thought, if he saw the police arrive and then leave. They were not going to help me. I had no marks on me and it would be my word against his.
The next day, I went the the courthouse after work to file an eviction, like the police had told me earlier. They advised me there that an eviction would take too long and that I was in extreme danger. The they told me to go upstairs to file a restraining order.
When I went upstairs, I was told that if I filed a restraining order, I might not ever see him again.
I did not know what to do. I went home and decided that I had just 3 more weeks of teaching and then I would figure it out.
The incident took place on the first Monday of my Summer vacation.
He threatened to break something and sang Ding Dog the Witch Is Dead. He then went into his room. I heard him arguing with his voices. Three times he said, "But, I don't want to kill her. She's my mother". Then he mumbled, "Uh huh, I understand".
I listened 3 times in disbelief. I cannot tell you how the sheer terror felt as I ran out of my house. Every nerve of my body screamed. I was a hunted animal. I went into a primal survival mode.
The rest I have told several times. I called from my locked car. I asked for crisis trained officer. I was told that I would get whoever is closest.
The first thing that they asked me when they arrived was if I had filed an eviction like I was told earlier. They then questioned me why I hadn't filed one.
The put ME on the defensive! They seemed very annoyed and cavalier.
They told me that there was no law against being mentally ill. They asked me when he was going to 'snap' out of it. They asked me if he would come to the front door.
After three private huddles, they told me that they would not come in because he had not threatened me to my face.
I pleaded with them to help because he had seen them through the window and would kill me. I told them that my son had followed command hallucinations from his voices in the past and that they were a serious threat. I asked for the emergency restraining order that dispatch had told me that they could grant me. They never even called the mental crisis team for assistance.
They just drove off. My youngest son and I spent 6 days in a hotel while I filed a restraining order.
They were of no help.
Later, the three officers lied to their commanding officer and told him that they had offered to go into my house. Who are they going to believe? Me or three of their own?
Six days later, my son lied to the police and a mental health worker and said that he was a 'little depressed' and was just 'joking' about killing me. He was not deemed a serious enough danger for an involuntary commitment. He was served the restraining order and escorted out of the tract by 5 police officers.
If I was hurt, they maybe would have done something that night. If he was brandishing a knife, they would have done something.
They found a large Butcher knife, box cutters, and a hammer in his room.
Why would he need a large Butcher knife in his bedroom? Was it to protect himself from his delusions...or to kill me?
I will never know...
I would try not to reward the violence, but I am divorced and my son is 6'1". When he is psychotic, he is very strong.
He would threaten to kill me if I called the police. Full tables were thrown across the room, large pots of boiling water were thrown and the wall would hiss with the scalding water, a Pyrex casserole dish was stabbed with a Butcher knife straight through into the counter, cabinets were stabbed, 3 computers, a t.v., light fixtures, and my land line phone were destroyed, ceilings had sirachi hot sauce squirted on them, rugs had urine, doors and walls were kicked open, things were thrown with such force that they ripped through the vinyl flooring into the cement, etc.
I called the mental crisis unit. They would not do anything because he was violent. I had to call the police, they told me, and they would come then.
I finally ran outside and called the police 3 years ago because he was threatening to cut up my face. When they arrived, they asked me why I had called. I told them that my son had threatened to cut my face up.
They then asked me, but why did you call tonight? I told them, again, that he was threatening to cut up my face. It was as though that was not a good enough reason.
A third time, I was asked and I told them again.
My mistake was in telling them that my son is schizophrenic, but not diagnosed yet.
Big mistake. Their demeanor worsen. They asked me how I even knew that he was schizophrenic. I told them that I had 2 schizophrenic sisters and was a special education teacher.
They told me that they couId not do anything and that I needed to evict him. I told them that an eviction would not help anything and that he would be one of the millions of mentally ill homeless people. They then asked me if I had somewhere to stay that night.
I remember feeling so very alone that night. The police were of no help. I was out front, down one house. My ill son never saw the police. At least he would not kill me for calling the police, I thought.
He continued to be violent and threaten my life. I felt completely on my own.
Three weeks before the last incident, he had thrown a full heavy table across the room. I had threatened to call the police if he continued to destroy things.
I went into the kitchen and he followed me. It seemed like a split second, but yet, slow motion at the same time. He held a bottle by the neck and cracked it hard against the counter. His eyes...his cold eyes were of someone without a conscience. He quickly held the bottle up to my throat and yelled, "Call the police and see what happens to you!"
He must have seen my face of sheer horror and surprise. He quickly smiled and gave a nervous laugh. He told me that he was just joking and said that he would clean it up. I knew that he wanted to destroy any evidence because he had NEVER offered to clean up anything in 9 years of destruction.
I did not call the police because they had not helped me earlier. He would surely kill me, I thought, if he saw the police arrive and then leave. They were not going to help me. I had no marks on me and it would be my word against his.
The next day, I went the the courthouse after work to file an eviction, like the police had told me earlier. They advised me there that an eviction would take too long and that I was in extreme danger. The they told me to go upstairs to file a restraining order.
When I went upstairs, I was told that if I filed a restraining order, I might not ever see him again.
I did not know what to do. I went home and decided that I had just 3 more weeks of teaching and then I would figure it out.
The incident took place on the first Monday of my Summer vacation.
He threatened to break something and sang Ding Dog the Witch Is Dead. He then went into his room. I heard him arguing with his voices. Three times he said, "But, I don't want to kill her. She's my mother". Then he mumbled, "Uh huh, I understand".
I listened 3 times in disbelief. I cannot tell you how the sheer terror felt as I ran out of my house. Every nerve of my body screamed. I was a hunted animal. I went into a primal survival mode.
The rest I have told several times. I called from my locked car. I asked for crisis trained officer. I was told that I would get whoever is closest.
The first thing that they asked me when they arrived was if I had filed an eviction like I was told earlier. They then questioned me why I hadn't filed one.
The put ME on the defensive! They seemed very annoyed and cavalier.
They told me that there was no law against being mentally ill. They asked me when he was going to 'snap' out of it. They asked me if he would come to the front door.
After three private huddles, they told me that they would not come in because he had not threatened me to my face.
I pleaded with them to help because he had seen them through the window and would kill me. I told them that my son had followed command hallucinations from his voices in the past and that they were a serious threat. I asked for the emergency restraining order that dispatch had told me that they could grant me. They never even called the mental crisis team for assistance.
They just drove off. My youngest son and I spent 6 days in a hotel while I filed a restraining order.
They were of no help.
Later, the three officers lied to their commanding officer and told him that they had offered to go into my house. Who are they going to believe? Me or three of their own?
Six days later, my son lied to the police and a mental health worker and said that he was a 'little depressed' and was just 'joking' about killing me. He was not deemed a serious enough danger for an involuntary commitment. He was served the restraining order and escorted out of the tract by 5 police officers.
If I was hurt, they maybe would have done something that night. If he was brandishing a knife, they would have done something.
They found a large Butcher knife, box cutters, and a hammer in his room.
Why would he need a large Butcher knife in his bedroom? Was it to protect himself from his delusions...or to kill me?
I will never know...
Last edited:
Nature
Active Member
Thank you so much PI in VA. Your post and Feeling Sad's hit home to me on many levels - the wretched helplessness and despair at seeing the downward spiral of our loved ones. It has helped me heal my grieving heart from all the support, comfort and understanding from this site. I am teary eyed at those that took time from their own woes that seek out to comfort others.
Feeling Sad, I think of you often. Tonight, I finally read the entire thread from the very beginning and it was gut wrenching as I could relate to so many of your post. Previous to last week ,I only read the Substance Abuse forum but am coming to terms with the slow realization that it is my son's mental illness that weights the heaviest on my heart and mind. The responses of the members - those wonderful, compassionate and caring souls. We see we are not alone but are being enveloped by hugs, acceptance and not judgements from many who have walked in our shoes. I pray we all find solace in all this turmoil.
Feeling Sad, I think of you often. Tonight, I finally read the entire thread from the very beginning and it was gut wrenching as I could relate to so many of your post. Previous to last week ,I only read the Substance Abuse forum but am coming to terms with the slow realization that it is my son's mental illness that weights the heaviest on my heart and mind. The responses of the members - those wonderful, compassionate and caring souls. We see we are not alone but are being enveloped by hugs, acceptance and not judgements from many who have walked in our shoes. I pray we all find solace in all this turmoil.
Feeling Sad
Well-Known Member
Yes, we all need to find some peace in the storm.
Happy Easter, Nature.
Happy Easter, Nature.
Feeling Sad
Well-Known Member
Hello, Leafy!
Thank you. I hope that all of us have a peaceful day.
Thank you. I hope that all of us have a peaceful day.
Feeling Sad
Well-Known Member
It has been almost 10 months since I filed the restraining order.
It is still so very difficult. I miss my son so much and I do not know if I will ever see him again.
I was watching Star Wars in the theater. A lot of things strike a cord with my emotions now, because I ache so very much.
I will not ruin the ending, but when Princess, or rather General Leah asked Hans Solo to find their son, my heart was breaking.
He had gone over to the dark side...I thought of my son.
I could see in her mother's eyes the pain of not knowing where he was and that he was different and not himself anymore. He was cruel and dangerous.
He had joined the dark side. Was he persuaded? Was he tricked? Did he believe it to be true?
I sat there in the theater tearing up. I had a lump in my throat.
I want to find my son. I want my son brought back from the 'dark side' of schizophrenia. I do not want him to be dangerous anymore. I want him to understand right from wrong.
I guess that it was either cathartic...or that I am totally losing it. Maybe both.
It is still so very difficult. I miss my son so much and I do not know if I will ever see him again.
I was watching Star Wars in the theater. A lot of things strike a cord with my emotions now, because I ache so very much.
I will not ruin the ending, but when Princess, or rather General Leah asked Hans Solo to find their son, my heart was breaking.
He had gone over to the dark side...I thought of my son.
I could see in her mother's eyes the pain of not knowing where he was and that he was different and not himself anymore. He was cruel and dangerous.
He had joined the dark side. Was he persuaded? Was he tricked? Did he believe it to be true?
I sat there in the theater tearing up. I had a lump in my throat.
I want to find my son. I want my son brought back from the 'dark side' of schizophrenia. I do not want him to be dangerous anymore. I want him to understand right from wrong.
I guess that it was either cathartic...or that I am totally losing it. Maybe both.
